Blood of Christchurch Mosque: A Poem For The Martyrs

The Devil that walks among us
Got a lucky shot
He planned to make us suffer
For the innocence we had wrought.

There was no clarion warning
There was no battle to be fought.
A coward with his bullets
That with impunity were shot.

An attack on both God and the Godly
An attack on all that’s pure
An attack of terror most evil
That no human ought to endure.

Evil in the human form
A lunatic fantasy built on scorn
Like a magnet from flame to flesh
The armour of a coward’s mesh.

How many tears have been cried today
For those at peace who knelt to pray
Only to heave their final breath
Cut short by the rumble of the Devil’s cleft.

The Devil’s form was white and cold
An invader in the house of God
He had no life that can be told
Except that of a terrorist’s fraud.

Martyrs of the human race
That gazed upon Satan to his face
Are purer than anything this life can give
And yet we pray they would have lived.

The mosques of Christchurch bleed with tears
And yet they bleed with the blood of man.
It is for us the living to confront the fears
Of the righteous who shall forever in honour stand.

Comments are closed.